


beside the still waters

by bubblewrapstargirl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Compliant, Case Fic, Celtic Mythology & Folklore, Gen, Implied Relationships, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Season/Series 08
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-18
Updated: 2014-09-18
Packaged: 2018-02-17 21:50:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2324369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bubblewrapstargirl/pseuds/bubblewrapstargirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every three years, hikers disappear from Black Hills National Forest, South Dakota. What is the mysterious adversary that neither Bobby Singer nor John Winchester managed to defeat... and why can't Sam see her?</p>
            </blockquote>





	beside the still waters

**Author's Note:**

> Set between 8x13 and 8x14.

“So what have we got?” said Dean, dropping into the chair beside Sammy, in their nice, neat, orderly library. Dean couldn’t believe how well-maintained the bunker was, and the fact that they got this new base of operations out of the blue with only one awful death to show for it.

 

While they waited for news from Kevin, they had to focus on other cases, and since meeting Aaron Bass a few weeks back, Sam had been reinvested in seeking out other secret societies of hunters and the like. So Dean wasn’t expecting Sam to present him with online articles about missing people in South Dakota, not a single Men of Letters folder in sight.

 

“Missing birdwatchers and hikers. All ‘round Black Hills National Forest, South Dakota. A bunch missing every three years for about thirty years, give or take.”

 

“And, what? No other hunters picked up on that?” Dean said incredulously. “Bobby wouldn’t have missed something so close to home.”

 

Sam nodded, his serious face on, and pushed their Dad’s journal across the table between them. “He didn’t.” he said, tapping a few lines worth of their Dad’s loopy scrawl.

 

Dutifully, Dean leaned over and read;

 

_Sep 1992: Black Hills Forest, SD. Singer and I stalked Deerfield Lake for two weeks, no sign of creature. Suspect kelpie or kappa responsible, no way to confirm. Need to pick up the boys from Jim’s._

 

He looked back up to see Sam’s equally bemused expression.

 

“What? They just gave up?” Dean asked, unconvinced. That didn’t make any sense at all. Or did it? September, 1992...

 

“It’s not like Bobby couldn’t handle it alone... what I don’t get is why Dad left the hunt in the first place. I mean, he left us for weeks at a time with Pastor Jim. What did he have to hurry back for? My best guess is... it must have been a lead on Azazel.” Sam replied.

 

Dean rubbed a hand across his forehead with a weary sigh. He could feel the beginnings of a headache creeping up on him. He didn’t like getting into the past with Sammy, but crap like this always seemed to surface at the shittiest moment possible, and he’d learnt, over the years, that it was easier to deal with if he ripped the band-aid off quick, so to speak.

 

“You were only little, I don’t think you knew what was going on back then.”

 

“What? Back when?” said Sam, immediately sitting up, eager for information. But if the set of his shoulders was anything to go by, he was not best pleased to learn there were yet more secrets unaired in their family.

 

Dean sighed. “We spent a lot of time at Pastor Jim’s in the summers, when Dad had hunts and we’d be stuck inside without even school to occupy us otherwise. I guess he thought Jim would stick to the training regime.”

 

Sam nodded; he knew exactly what Dean was referring to. Hazy summers spent in Blue Earth, chasing Dean through the fields behind the Rectory, clear skies and strawberry ice cream; Latin class and Sunday School.

 

“When I was about 13, Jim found out about... that time, with the shtriga.” Dean stuttered to a halt, still affected by the horrific memory of the witch looming over Sammy, gun in his hands but too paralysed with fear to do anything with it.

 

Wrongly interpreting his admission as a sign to have a heart to heart, Sam begin with; “Dean, you were just a kid-”

 

“It’s not even about that, man, alright?” Dean barked, cutting his brother off before they got too far down memory lane. “Look, I told Pastor Jim about it, I don’t even remember why, you know how he got us to talk - not entirely sure he didn’t use his mojo on me, he always knew what I was thinkin’ I swear - and anyway, he blamed Dad, big time. I heard them fighting over the phone. Said he was gonna apply for custody of us if Dad ever pulled crap like that again.”

 

“So, what, you think Dad booked it to come save us from being adopted by Pastor Jim?”

 

Dean shrugged. “Timeline fits, right? End of summer, 1992.”

 

For a moment, there was a kind of stunned silence, while they both processed the implications. Then Sam snorted.

 

“I dunno why I’m so surprised. Dad always got us the hell outta dodge if there was even a hint of the CPS.”

 

Dean nodded, because it was true. John Winchester hadn’t approved of anybody who tried to interfere with how he raised his boys.

 

“But that still doesn’t explain Bobby.” He continued, ready to move on from discussing old wounds; “Dad leaves to come claim us, and Bobby just what? Chose to go home, and ignore a string of missing hikers on his doorstep over the next decade? In what universe does that sound likely?”

 

Sam shrugged, “Bobby didn’t document things the way Dad did. He’s probably got notes on what he thought it was, but they’ll be packed away with the rest of his stuff, and the point is, whatever they thought it was, it obviously wasn’t. Cos people are still going missing. Pretty sure we can eliminate kappas and keplies. They’re both pretty messy- so far there’s been no physical remains. So what else have we got?”

 

Dean did a quick mental inventory. “Nix? Vengeful spirit? There was that one in the lake in Wisconsin. But... we so sure it’s in the lake? Could be a wendigo in the woods.”

 

Sam grimaced. “Fuck, I hope not.”

 

“I hear yah.” Dean jumped up, ready to get on the move and forget all about the little revelation he’d dropped on Sam. “Either way, we better get packed.”

 

\--

 

It had taken them half a day to get to Hill City, SD, which was only a half-hour drive away from the lake. That first evening was spent indulging in a large dinner at the local greasy spoon, before turning in for the night. They needed a decent sleep before they went traipsing round a lake all day and interviewed the locals.

 

Deerfield Lake was beautiful in the way that only nature can be - the very definition of peaceful and serene. That didn’t mean Dean had to enjoy the hiking-all-around-it part of it. He resented leaving Baby alone at the best of times, let alone at the edge of some forest where all manner of critters could get at her. He tried to keep his grumbling to a minimum though, because they were both on edge after talking about their childhood, a topic they generally both tried to avoid with a ten foot pole these days. Sleeping dogs and all that.

 

So here they were, stalking through the picturesque landscape, looking for anything that resembled a clue. The locals hadn’t trumped up much- the brothers were here under their Fish & Wildlife IDs, and no one seemed surprised that they were investigating the habitat surrounding the lake. Which was depressing, as it indicated the townsfolk were thoroughly inured to the idea of a handful of hikers disappearing off the face of the earth every couple of years.

 

Dean had a half-formed notion that maybe it would turn out to be one of those ‘whole town is in on it/brainwashed’ scenarios, but that was generally their last conclusion after everything else had been eliminated, so he stopped himself from even voicing it. They had to rule the lake out, first. Thankfully, there were no ancient caves or mine-shafts round these parts, so it seemed wendigos were out. Small mercies.

 

But there were no gorges or anything else that resembled a fjord, which meant nix were probably out as well. Somehow, Dean didn’t think it was going to end up being a spirit either. Which was just endlessly frustrating. They had seen a few other people in the forest as they made their way round; all kitted out in hiking gear and not suspicious. Dean didn’t want to go back to the motel with bupkis, but the light was fading, and they’d been out since the early morning and hadn’t eaten in hours. If they wanted to do a night recon, they would have to eat first, at least. Sam had used his big brown puppy dog eyes to full effect in convincing the other hikers to go home. Without a solid threat to issue to the local police, they had to settle on declaring the trails unfit due to some plant disease that could be walked into other territories if not quarantined, and there wasn’t much else they could do.

 

Dean was just about to suggest they head back to the Impala, when something on the far side of the water caught his eye. The flash of bright red might have been dismissed as a trick of the setting sun by a less experienced hunter, but Dean knew better. He held his hand up to catch Sam’s attention, and they both crouched down, hidden by the tree-line.

 

Across the sparkling blue water, a figure was moving, too far to be clear at this distance, but it sure looked like a redheaded woman. Or perhaps a woman with a red headscarf. She was moving slowly, but with purpose, along the path Sam and Dean had taken, all around the lake. As if she were following them. That might just be paranoia talking, of course, but then Sam whispered; “What? What is it?”

 

Dean fought the instinctual urge to take his eyes off their quarry and give Sam a look of disbelief. Alright, he’d taken a year off, but they’d been hunting together again for a while, and Sam wasn’t usually slow or sloppy when it came to recon.

 

“My eleven, straight across the lake, dude.” Dean hissed, and as if the woman had heard them, she stilled.

 

Sam fidgeted beside him. “Where?” he said, “I don’t see anything.”

 

The figure stepped out of the cover of the treeline, right onto the grassy slope before the water began. [She was dressed in an elaborate but shabby green dress](http://media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/64/a9/e1/64a9e14a0465d8ddd9b67de38f2befa6.jpg), straight out of a fairy tale picture-book, all long sleeves and floor-length skirt, with gently waved red hair. It was hard to tell at this distance, but she was probably a babe. Most monsters in their human form were pretty hot, after all. Not that it mattered - if she was killing people, Dean was going to gank her, no matter how she pretty she was.

 

“Don’t think the renaissance fair is in town; I’d say that’s our chick.” Dean grinned. “Unless, of course, she’s LARPing.”

 

“What are you talking about?” said Sam, starting to get pissy. “There’s no one there!”

 

“Are you kidding me? You seriously don’t see little miss Dungeons & Dragons over there?”

 

The girl was looking right at them, now. So Dean felt he was justified in the noise of disbelief he made when she disappeared, right before his eyes, by melting. Into water. In a cascade of azure liquid, she was gone, quickly absorbed into the shoreline.

 

Dean could only gape in surprise. “What... the fuck."

 


End file.
